Mary is Contrary
by DarkMetropolis
Summary: Mary knows that other people don't have to deal with their husbands spending so much time with their 'best friend'. She's spoken to John about it but nothing changes, also she's sick of the insinuations from outsiders about the two men's relationship. Therefore, the answer to Mary is simple: Sherlock Holmes must die. Kink meme multi-chapter crack with plot.
1. Chapter 1

A multi chapter fic for a prompt on the kink meme which I have added to the bottom on this first chapter in case you don't want to see it before reading (although the summary is fairly clear).

I just want to get out of the way that my headcanon for Mary is very different to this. To me Mary is amazing in her own right and supports John BAMFing it up with Sherlock. She and Sherlock not only have an understanding, but they also get on. She's a strong, supportive woman with an excellent relationship with John and her own life and career too. This story however is crack and will be written as such!

Hope you like it!

* * *

John has had a long day down at the surgery. With a calming deep breath he slots the key in the lock, it makes a soft clinking noise as he turns it and moments later he's inside their home and making his way to the kitchen. With a small smile he sneaks up to his wife, Mary, and gives her a cheeky hug from behind as she stands at the stove.

They'd hit a rough patch over the last few months, John wants to work it out but there are just some things that he refuses to compromise on. The feisty woman he'd fallen in love with and married two years ago was still as headstrong as ever, which he loves about her. They met as she was a fan of his blog and it was actually her that convinced him to write up some of Sherlock's old cases during his 'absence'. She was a crime buff herself, always watching police and forensics shows on television and reading up on strange stories. They connected over this. Mary found John's history of cases fascinating and John appreciated a strong woman who was able to bring him some closure when he thought Sherlock really was dead.

But these days instead of it being a tight team who make each other better people, she is at him to spend more quality time together at home, just the two of them. She went from being accepting of his work with Sherlock to telling him outright that he spends far too much time with his friend. He hopes they can sort it out.

"Hello, you. Mmm, what's that?". She is about an inch shorter than him with mousey hair and an average sized figure. Not super skinny nor large.

"I'm making a stew. You said last week that we hadn't had one in a while" she comments, letting her hazel eyes flick over to John.

"So you thought you'd make one?" he asks, gazing at her warmly. "You're too good to me"

"I know" she agrees, quickly and gives him a quick peck on the lips. "How was work? My day was hectic, a group of boys snuck in a few bags of lollies and made themselves sick. All over the classroom carpet. Twice"

John seems to process this and his tongue darts out in thought before he speaks. "Sounds like my day but swap 'lollies' for 'cocaine' and 'classroom carpet' for 'my trousers'"

At this Mary looks down to see that the pants had been sponge cleaned but there were still remnants there. "God, John! Go and soak them"

He nods and slips his shoes off. "How long until dinner?"

"Half-a. You're not going out tonight are you?"

"No plans to as yet"

"Good. You know-"

"-yes, you've been very clear that I've been spending too much time with Sherlock"

She takes a moment to see if he is going to be apologetic about this fact. Apparently not. "I'm your wife and sometimes it feels as though you spend more time with him than me! I've always been very reasonable about this. Obviously too reasonable, letting you go over there without making a fuss. But like I've been saying every night for the last month, enough is enough. Surely you can cut down on how often you see him"

John has slipped his trousers off by this point. He sighs and goes over to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry, you know I am. What I do with Sherlock is work, though-"

"-not all the time. I know for a fact that half the time you're just _sitting_ around that old flat _talking_ with him"

John rubs at his creased brow. "That's not the case. And anyway, if I do that's perfectly fine. He's my friend"

"And I'm your wife". They both know that neither is going to back down tonight. "Well, you've had your warning, John, I'm not going to be nice about this any more"

Mary doesn't see him roll his eyes and give the ceiling a pleading look. "Ok, ok. I'm going to get changed"

She watches John walk off and hears the stairs creek as he goes up to their room.

Mary turns around and drops the wooden spoon with a jump as something tall and dark pulls his nose away from the saucepan and stands up fully. "Could use more oregano" Sherlock murmours.

"Jesus Christ! How-"

"-the door wasn't deadlocked so I thought I'd come on in. Oh, you've changed your hair" he notes in a quick-fire delivery. His 'real person smile' puts her instantly on edge and she has the impression that he's heard every word that she and John had uttered just then.

He sweeps across the room, coat dancing about and sits down at the kitchen table as she stirs the pot in front of her. "So" she tries "are you here for dinner?"

"A pity, but no. A case in Manchester needs our attention"

"Manchester?" she almost shrieks. _'That far away?' _runs through her mind.

"Yes. We could be gone for a few days, never know with these things. One from my brother, you see. National importance, you understand" his lips pull into an apologetic line and he nods as if inviting her to do the same. It's not the first time she's felt he imitates emotions rather than feels them.

"I think I'm beginning to" she replies with careful calculation.

She is going to continue but John steps into the room in nothing but his underpants and socks. "Mary, have you seen-oh, hello, didn't hear you come in"

"Neither did I" Mary mutters, pushing at a stubborn piece of carrot on the bottom of the saucepan. "John, get some clothes on"

"Oh, don't worry" Sherlock says in an amused rumble "nothing I haven't seen before. In fact-"

"-_Sherlock_" the doctor chides although he doesn't keep all the humour out of his tone. "I'm looking for my beige trousers-"

"-on the chair next to your wardrobe, third pair down" Sherlock offers while inspecting his gloves. When he's met with stares he asks "What?" with a quirk of his head. "Also, you're going to want to pack. Case. In Manchester"

"Sherlock-"

"-one of Mycroft's" he says as though that's the end of discussion. Then adds "Lives of British citizens. Queen and country. Very dangerous"

"Alright, alright" John mumbles looking at his feet and then up to his wife. "Honey-"

"-you're not seriously considering going, are you? After everything I've been saying over the last month? For the last six months"

He doesn't know what to say. "It's just-"

"-oh, God, just go then"

"Really?"

"Yes, but I'm not happy. I've had enough, John, you know what I'm talking about"

"I think we all do" Sherlock comments quietly as he stands up in a snap, now back into his usual demeanour. "John, we need to get going. I'll help you pack seeing as though you obviously can't find your trousers without me. It may be hours if you're left to your own devices".

Mary turns to the stew. Most of the larger bits have stuck to the bottom now. "_Damn you, Sherlock Holmes!_" she hisses once they are out of earshot.

Fifteen minutes later the two men are ready to go. Mary had put her foot down and made her husband have something to eat before he left. Who knew when food would next be available? Sherlock wouldn't have any as they were 'on a case'. John said his goodbyes.

"I'll see you in a few days. Could be sooner" he said kissing her cheek just before he steps onto their front landing.

"Good luck, stay safe"

"Goodbye, Ms Morstan" Sherlock farewells, John doesn't hear a thing, too busy adjusting his overnight bag.

"_Mrs_ _Watson_. Make sure John doesn't get hurt"

"Yes" he replies simply, gaze now focused on his watch.

"Thanks, for the stew. Was lovely!" John calls out from the front path. "Could have used a little more oregano though!" he adds as an afterthought.

Mary balls her fists, John doesn't know what he's said was wrong and doesn't see a reaction but Sherlock gives her an true quirk of his lips. She slams the front door, not believing that her husband has run off with that other man again.

It is not good enough. When they married Sherlock had been back from his 'death' for six months. She allowed John to leave at all hours, supported him fully with his work with the consulting detective as she thought it would only be a short term thing. Yes, her new husband had told her that this is how it was going to be but she didn't listen. As her mother always told her 'Find yourself a man that's close to ideal, then mould him to whatever you want'. And that's what she thought she could do. Let John do what he wants with Sherlock for a while, he will get it out of his system, then he'll chose to be with her and forget that overbearing so and so.

Her eyes go from the bottle of wine that she'd left on a table earlier to her collection of books on real life crimes and murders.

Eight hours later, after making her way through the entire bottle of wine then some more that she'd found, she kept up her reading session on violent deaths. The answer was simple: _Sherlock Holmes must die._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: "Mary gets pissy because he's been spending too much time with sherlock, so she goes bat-shit crazy and tries to murder him, so she can have john to herself".

Let me know what you think so far :)


	2. Chapter 2

Four days later Mary has been reconsidering her decision to kill Sherlock Holmes. Even though the desire has been rising for months she thinks that actually murdering him may be going overboard. However, that was right up until he was plastered all over the front page of her newspaper as she sat down in her school's staff room and again she saw red.

Usually their cases for Mycroft weren't front page affairs but this time it was. This was fine, but she could read into the subtext of the article. Everyone could, apparently.

"Your John's done it again!" Michelle the music teacher calls out from the other side of the room. They've all finished for the day and it is the first chance they've had to sit and chat. "Says the breakthrough came when they were in their hotel room. They share rooms, do they?"

"Gives them a chance to go through evidence together" Mary replies, not taking her eyes from the end of the article. Fifteen reads through and the underlying meaning of some of the comments isn't changing.

"Do they share a bed?"

"Sherlock doesn't sleep"

"I bet he doesn't" the male PE teacher comments with a wink.

At this point Mary walks out explaining that she had to be somewhere. She instead goes home and gets ready to pay Sherlock a final visit. John is on the late shift tonight, it's the perfect time to do it.

* * *

An hour after nightfall, Mary walks forward into the living area of 221b after sneaking in. She wore a disguise on her way over here which she has left downstairs. Mrs Hudson is away and no one saw her entering. She is now wearing dark jeans, red shoes and a green jacket. Her hair in a low ponytail.

Sherlock is standing at the far window looking down onto the street. He turns around slowly as though this was a prearranged meeting. "Ah. Ms Morstan. I was expecting you twenty minutes ago" he greets conversationally.

"You-"

"-have been waiting for this for quite some time. Yes" he eyes her feet "Oh! That accounts for the time difference" he notes.

"What does?" she replies, head snapping down expecting to see something very obviously wrong. Once she saw then they just looked normal.

"You walked. You were going to get a cab however at the last minute you decided that would be too easily traced" Sherlock informs the room at large, bright eyes sparkling. She can't tell if it is arrogance, mirth or something completely different making them shine.

Mary lets him have his moment. She has to admit he is very good at this, it's a shame he has to die. "True. If you can pick up on that then I wonder if you know why I'm here?"

Sherlock ignores this and picks up his violin, although he just holds it for now. "You do realise that my brother has all the streets under surveillance?"

"I wore a disguise over here. Part of my plan. Have you told your brother, then?"

"And let him spoil this? No. Anyway, you overheard me three days ago say that he is overseas on business"

Mary nods. "So you knew I was going to come here and try and kill you? That doesn't surprise me, what does is that you didn't try to stop it"

Sherlock surveys the room, giving the impression that she isn't worth his full attention. "I let it go ahead because I'm actually quite interested in how you'll go about this".

It infuriates her to see how casual he is being while she is inwardly so nervous. "You think this is a game?" at this her voice wavers, it gives away her her first sign of hesitancy.

Sherlock sighs, 'women and their emotions' he thinks. "You know what I do for a job. You know what I do to keep myself occupied, what I do for fun. I've trained all my life for a situation such as this". His gaze is then heavy on her. "But for some reason you think you can get one over me. Now I know John's praise is the best out there, it can inflate even the most crippled self worth, convince the most cynical with its certainty. But surely not even his faith in you can make you believe you can actually do this?"

"This isn't about John". The answer is automatic.

"Please" he dismisses with a wave of his long hand. "_All this _is about him. You're jealous. Jealous of the time he spends with me, jealous of the excitement I give him"

Mary wants to scream out 'He's mine!' but instead concedes "The connection that you two have isn't normal"

Sherlock seems humbled by this. "No, it is not". He gives himself a moment, plucking at the the strings of his violin absently. "Still you think you can sever it". He changes tact. "But enough of that. Tell me: how are you planning on 'taking me out', 'doing me in', 'fixing me up'?"

"You're a clever man. Guess"

"Well, the way you walked up the stairs tells me there's no heavy bags with rope or other supplies"

"Quite right"

"You wouldn't want something violent, you're happy for the shows you watch and the books you read to take care of that side of you, so no knife or any other 'messy' weapon"

"Yep"

"I have been thinking of all the poisons, gases, 'accidents' and injuries that you could employ, but no"

"Hrm"

He closes his eyes and sighs, obviously feeling let down. "You have John's gun in your handbag. How pathetic. Desperate. Pedestrian. I'm disappointed"

At this she pulls out the loaded weapon that she knows her way around well. Her husband made sure she was well versed with how it worked in case they ever had intruders and the like.

"You're going to shoot me? With _that_ gun?" he snorts.

"No" at this Mary pulls a vial and syringe from her bag while keeping the weapon trained on him. "You're going to overdose and everyone is going to believe it was an accident. But first I'm going to explain why I'm doing this. You need to know what you've done wrong".

As Sherlock eyes the vial he draws in a long breath, standing up straighter, gaze never wavering from the bottom. He seems unsettled for the first time. "Well. Let's begin, shall we?".


End file.
